Twenty-Six Miles Further

I think my index finger hit the keyboard before the short and long hands on the clock went straight up, so this is an official Daily on a busy morning! The Crew from the Writer’s Section was rounded up, not by force, but in the interest of public good to get our heads suitably cropped in an efficient manner. The Writer’s Section plus our task-mistress from HR ensured there was no complaining and all cuts, male and female, were suitably apportioned. Were there still things like newspapers, we would have seen the news while we waited. Instead, while immobilized in the waiting room, everyone was looking blankly in their laps at the smart phones the Chairman insists we carry in case something needs to be produced for one of the Daily missives. There would have been some fertile ground for that, but it depends on which site popped up on the little screens. Many of the displays assured us everything was fine.

Would you prefer the news that our Vice President had to hire actors to pretend to be little kids in an improvised “classroom” to demonstrate her mastery of the wilds of space? With taxpayer dollars? That the President has had a fake Oval Office set created to mimic the actual office in the Eisenhower Office Building to look normal?

Either would have been a good start, but only some sites held that news. Most of the rest of the media treated the Vice President’s show about the excitement of space exploration as a triumph of leadership, as she sent the rest of the Cabinet to Mexico to talk about the crisis on the border of which she is in charge. There was no reason cited for the creation of the President’s imitation office, though we think we knew.

But that is all national stuff, and all of us know that is all an amalgamation of a strange sort of national reality show. Instead, we realized that the world most of us try to ignore is coming closer and closer to Refuge Farm.

Don’t be alarmed. We aren’t. But it was funny. We got bored analyzing the quality of LuAnne’s haircuts and talked about life. Rocket was reassigned in one of his Navy jobs to come to the capital back in the mid-1980s. It was his first trip with a family in toe, and he and his wife did a little research to help with the real estate search that goes with all the moves, two and three years apart. He had come from assignments in Japan, Korea and Pearl Harbor. He and his wife decided to have children despite the warnings, and schools and other appurtenances were a new requirement. The search thus had new factors of sudden importance.

If you have not looked for a place to live in Your Nation’s Capital, it is a treat. The Great State of Maryland is a lovely place, but despite it’s history and lovely terrain, is mostly run out of a place they call ”The Charm City.” Baltimore. So, the eastern side of the District of Columbia dropped off the choice chart. The District itself is worth a discussion, though it would be a short one. The part that ran on the Virginia side of the Potomac River was determined by experience to be ungovernable and given back to the Commonwealth, where it became ungovernable all on its own. It was suitable for digging up to form a line of forts to protect the capital against other Virginians a few years later, some of which remain to this day. They surround ancient modest homes that cost $30 grand to build and now have decimal points in the price.

Rocket sighed, and continued his description of the search. “Just outside Arlington County, the ungovernable slice of the returned slice of the District, lies Fairfax County.” Rocket sighed as he reached that point in his description. “Fairfax was Red then. In fact, Virginia was mostly Red. But Fairfax had decent schools, less ungovernable people, and was pretty nice. That is where we started.”

“Red Fairfax?” Loma chortled with amusement. “It is all deep Blue now.”

“No kidding. In fact, back then a drive out to Dulles International Airport was a long-distance adventure. No one could do that and work a job downtown. Beyond Dulles was a wonderland of equestrian properties and farmers. We called it Low-down, after the given name it had since the Revolution: Loudoun.”

“But isn’t that where the school trouble is now?”

“A national treasure of trouble. But it is remarkable. That is what we thought of it only thirty-odd years ago. Way out there in Red agricultural and horse country, and a couple battlefields we had to learn about in school.”

“But isn’t the school board in Low Down the one that is insisting on all sorts of strange stuff?”

“Nothing is strange anymore, not out there. Last year, the County became ground zero on the Critical Race Theory, Transgender Rights, universal use of rest rooms depending on mood, and curricula that include putting some highly questionable material in the school libraries.”

“Oh come on. Former Governor McAulliffe says they only teach that Critical Theory stuff in a few university law schools.”

Rocket laughed. “He is running again. But it was going on in Fairfax thirty years ago. My wife did some substitute teaching there and she was approached by regular teachers who told her they could get her the books the school Board wouldn’t approve for instructional purposes.” He fumbled in his pocket for something until he realized he no longer smoked.

“Now they are running the place. But Low Down was still OK, or at least we thought so until the pandemic stuff started. The virtual learning was supposed to protect the teachers from the kids. Instead, it let the parents see exactly what was being taught.”

“Public Schools have always been an emotional topic. The Parents seem to think that because it is their kids at stake and their taxes that pay for an education that doesn’t know boys from girls, or that America didn’t invent slavery or any of that other crap.”

The Intern frowned. “Well, I heard the parents were threatening the school board. It is time for the Feds to step in and protect the Teachers.”

There was general laughter from around the Fire Ring. DeMille took a measured approach to the discussion. He stood, and explained that the Critical Theory crowd had taken Marxist kant from Germany and pasted Amos and Andy on top of it. Then they said there were as many sexes as you can imagine, and you can declare yourself to be any one of them on any morning. So, by following what they claim is Science, you can deny biology. They dropped math, too.”

“Must have been a slow news cycle. But what tore it was the school board meetings out in Low Down Loudoun. Parents showed up at the meetings and pushed back on policies allowing boys in girls’ bathrooms and other fairly controversial stuff. Last June, the School Board said the meeting was an ‘unlawful assembly,’ and arrested a bunch of parents for not liking it.”

“The cops knocked a guy to the ground who refused to leave the room. In the struggle, he was dragged out and his pants came down around his ankles.”

“I thought that is the way the kids were wearing their pants these days.”

“It gets better. Part of the lunacy includes the claim that a transgender kid raped a 15-year old classmate in the girl’s restroom. The Father of the victim got a sample kit to prove it, and the kid was charged with four counts of forced acts that Chairman Socotra has to review with Legal before he will be able to print what they are. Then, the kid got out on bail and did something similar to another girl.”

Splash laughed. “It’s OK. The kid said he was bisexual.”

Mel frowned and looked around for something to throw. “It is better than that. The alleged victim’s father was charged with two misdemeanors for even bringing it up at the meeting. The School Board said it violated the privacy of the kid who is accused.”

Mel was sitting on the Loading Dock, looking down at the group by the Fire Ring. “I spent most of my professional life fighting oppression and inequality against women,” she said slowly. “I am a little confused at how quickly we got thrown under the school bus. First it was men who wanted to compete against women in sports. Just a Title 9 issue. Then it was a matter of a little privacy in the Ladies room. I think this is nuts.”

“That is what is so crazy about all this. Wouldn’t you think there would be some sort of discussion about lunacy?”

DeMille looked over at the corner of the Dock where the Intern was pressing frantically at the tablet in his hand. He didn’t slow down enough to ask what pronouns would be appropriate. “What exactly are you doing over there?”

“Sorry, Mr. DeMille. Legal says the Loudoun County Sheriff’s Department is investigating potential acts of political intimidation based on the finding issued by the Attorney General. Legal just wants to make sure everything is documented in case the FBI comes to The Farm.”

Splash expectorated in the general direction of the Fire Ring. “It is a good thing this part of the Piedmont is further away from Washington than Loudoun County.”

Mel smiled and brushed her hair aside. “It is exactly 26 miles further, dim-bulb. And have you noticed the traffic on the farm road is starting to pick up and move a little faster?”

There was some general agreement that the whole thing was Rocket’s fault. Then we went back to critiquing the haircuts.

Copyright 2021 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com